


Archon's Favorite

by longsufferingsigh



Series: Young Ambition [1]
Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Archon Shenanigans, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Holidays, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Politics, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 22:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17795546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longsufferingsigh/pseuds/longsufferingsigh
Summary: Fatebinder Ru’s first encounter with the Voices of Nerat and Graven Ashe comes long before the events at Vendrien’s Well.





	Archon's Favorite

Fine etiquette was expected for all vassals under the Adjudicator’s banner. Even court pages like Ru. Scratch that, _especially_ court pages like Ru. He'd been left to his own devices before he could count his age on one hand, making a living stealing anything that wasn't nailed to the ground. He still wasn’t sure what stayed Tunon’s hand after The Incident but there must have been something worth keeping if he had him learning letters and numbers and parading him around in trappings fit for a noble's son, not a street rat.

Rhogalus told him this was what it meant to be part of Kyros’ Empire. Nunoval told him to make the most of the cards he’d been dealt. Calio told him Tunon must be challenging himself.

(Ru liked Calio best. Not that he'd ever give her the satisfaction of knowing that.)

Court life ran like clockwork but today was different.

Today marked the Overlord’s victory over the Northern Kingdom, and petty strife in the Capital let up to make way for celebration.

From up a high window, Ru watched revelers stream past, laughing and chittering among lantern lights and music as Kyros’ emblem fluttered overhead. Vendors lined the street peddling their wares to everyone, sometimes a dazzled visitor from a far-flung corner of Terratus, sometimes a curious Archon surrounded by their retinue. Tunon was, officially speaking, obligated to attend certain social functions to exert his authority and maintain relations with other Archons. It was strictly political, and Ru suspected it greatly annoyed him to be dragged out his courtroom. He went and sent nearly every able-bodied Fatebinder out to keep the peace and the dormitory was notably quieter for it.

Court pages were excused from their daily lessons but that was all Tunon was willing to permit, expressly forbidding them from leaving palace grounds and partaking in festivities. Naturally, a few brave souls snuck out when the guard rotation changed. They invited Ru along but the lingering ache in his palms from a few hard swats of a ruler was a keen reminder of the price for playing hooky again. It wouldn’t be long until a Fatebinder caught them, rendered due punishment, and dumped them back here anyway. They'd content themselves with a board game or something until a more sympathetic Fatebinder smuggled in toys and treats and that was that. The holiday would come and go, and court would resume as usual. 

Life was hard being ten-years-old. 

Something soft and heavy dropped on top of Ru’s head. He pulled it off with a frown and stared at the rich, pinstripe red tunic in his hands for a moment before he looked over his shoulder. Calio leaned against the bedpost of his bunk bed wearing her best uniform and a wry smile.

“Spruce up,” she said. “We're putting those court manners to the test.”

Calio was on track to succeeding the Fatebinder of Balance and Ru looked forward to seeing her every day when she became a fixture under Tunon’s dais. For now, she navigated the ballroom with the ease and grace of a Fatebinder twice her age, engaging all manner of conversation with a clever quip and pacifying any argument before it escalated. She and Ru were only a decade apart but the disparity was enough to make him feel hopelessly out of depth.

That Tunon let him roam outside the Palace of Justice should be exciting but this place, with its shameless opulence and its dignitaries who, like Tunon, were Not-Quite-Right, made Ru’s stomach squirm anxiously. He hovered by Calio’s elbow for a time, scraping and bowing, suffering pats on the head and pinched cheeks, but it soon became clear that he was the only non-adult in attendance. The shadows were welcome reprieve and, hoping against hope, Ru waited for them to contort into Mark's familiar shape, but they never stirred. Disappointed, he latched to the banquet table, content to stuff his face with candied nuts and fruit until he got sick.

Then something caught his eye.

A handkerchief poking out from a woman's purse, shimmering silk, the color of the deepest sea, ripe for the taking.

He shouldn’t. He really, _really_ shouldn’t.

Ru popped one last candied nut in his mouth, sharp spice bursting on his palate, and chewed slowly, letting the idea steep in his mind while the sensible part of him (that curiously possessed Tunon’s voice) railed desperately against it. Tunon floated slightly above the crowd but that could work to his disadvantage with Ru’s short stature. Even if Tunon wasn’t preoccupied with a gaggle of courtiers, it would be easy enough to slip behind a pillar or duck under a table if he altered his line of sight. If Ru tackled each area cross-wise from Tunon’s position at all times, then surely he'd reap the most rewards with minimal danger. Calio wouldn’t mind— unless he got caught. She liked him but not _that_ much.

Ru swallowed and smirked.

The evening passed without a cry of alarm, just a few mutters of clumsiness and forgetfulness so far. Good. There was always a small thrill in giving people the slip, like he'd won a game. The opponents used to be district guards and, admittedly, he'd lost a few rounds to them but he always wriggled free one way or another, so it never counted. But as he targeted his next mark, he felt a prickle down the nape of his neck, a pin of a stare almost identical to Tunon’s, and he whirled around to find its source, noticing a strange... something lurking just beyond the crowd.

Never once did it occur to him that this _thing_ , green incandescence wrapped in tattered red rags, was anything more than another eccentric Northern decoration. Some cantrip given human form. Maybe a novelty lamp. It stood in the shadow of a crumbling statue completely motionless save for the bronze helm that swiveled lazily above the flaming cavity of its neck. Hanging from its threadbare belt was a small pouch of curious marble balls that glittered like stars.

No would notice if one disappeared.

Ru approached the strange apparatus, curiosity compounding his intent as he looked it up and down, puzzling over how the inferno did not consume the very fabric that contained it. It was a passing fancy, however, and he made a swift grab towards the pouch.

Only for a hand to clamp on his wrist, flames biting at his tender skin.

Recoiling with a yelp, Ru clutched his arm to his chest and stared up at this thing— this _person_ incredulously.

“A bold stroke! How charming. How terribly stupid.” Its helm snapped in place on the smiling visage and it bent low until they were face-to-face. A chuckle echoed in the chamber of its head when Ru scrambled backwards into a pillar. “You would have fared better pilfering another Archon. One with less eyes. Might we recommend Graven Ashe? We hear whispers he hides a treasure trove in that beard.”

“A-Archon?” This was it. This was how Ru died. A wet smear across the face of Terratus with pulpy bits of him still clinging to Tunon’s gavel. His eyes darted to the dark shape of the Adjudicator hovering across the room. Mercifully his back was turned to him but it wouldn’t be long until he sniffed out guilt like blood in the water. Getting caught robbing an Archon a second time wasn’t going to end with him pledging fealty again.

“You’re one of Tunon’s!” It emitted an odd, reedy laugh as it took notice of the object of Ru’s attention. “Surely not! You actually have character. Does he know how naughty you are?”

Ru played along. He must. Even if this Archon made his skin crawl it had yet to drag him before Tunon so he'd take what small mercies he could. “He does,” Ru admitted. “I’m... a work in progress.”

“Ah... he seeks to fix you. Such a waste. Were you under our care, you would have been allowed to embrace your talents. As it is, they need refinement. Don’t think your misadventure around the ballroom escaped our notice. Your pockets must be bursting at the seams! You even managed to lift a vial of Bane essence from the Archon of Entropy! Not that you really knew what it was, of course. You wanted it only because you liked how the cut of the bottle sparkled in the light.”

How did—

“We collect voices.” It flicked a finger against Ru’s forehead almost playfully. His skin stung. “Especially those unheard. Your mind is still young and untrained. We will forgive your ignorance just this once but you ought to know your betters. The Voices of Nerat do not answer to _‘it’_.”

Ru’s face warmed. "Forgive me, my lord. Please don't tell Tunon about all this. I'll stop. I'll put it all back, I swear.”

“Oh? But he’s just over there...” Nerat took a step in Tunon’s direction and Ru’s heart leapt to his throat.

“Please! I’ll do anything!”

“Anything?” Nerat’s voice positively oozed with vicious glee. “Have a care with your promises, court page. Were you any older, we’d have asked for something far beyond the pale. However, our recommendation still stands.”

"What?"

“Ashe’s beard! We want you to plunder its mysteries!”

_“What?”_

Ru found himself drifting towards the Archon of War as if in a daze. He was in over his head. It would have been easier to fall on his own sword than doing this. Faster even. There couldn’t possibly be anything in Ashe’s beard but beard and more beard but what was a court page to do? Confess his crime to the Adjudicator and hope for the best? There was a limit to Tunon’s mercy and Ru had no intention of overstepping it.

How was he going to do this? _Good evening, my lord, might I search your person? Purely professional, I swear. You see, section twenty-three of article one of the fourth chapter of Kyros' Law mandates all beards must be inspected for contraband. We understand each other, right?_ Ru wouldn't be surprised if he met the business end of the Archon’s mace for that.

Ru glanced over his shoulder and flinched away from Nerat’s leer. Had to be quick. Had to look like an accident. He bent and surreptitiously plucked loose one of his bootlaces, keeping an eye trained ahead on Ashe's position in the center of the room. He needed to face him directly and find some way to bypass the ring of Iron Guards surrounding their great general. Figured that they'd selfishly hoard his attention even here, but they were still only human under all the glossy purple armor and it wasn’t long until a platter of finger food compelled them to break formation. That was all he needed. 

“Whoops!” Ru stepped hard on his shoelace and propelled himself forward, reaching for that mighty beard with both hands. Time seemed to slow on the descent. Ashe turned slightly at the sound of his voice, his brow furrowed. An Iron Guard shifted in front of Ashe to shield him, but Ru grit his teeth and awkwardly angled his body to the side, dodging them. He was so close he could practically—

Without warning, Ru’s momentum stopped dead and he hung in the air like a puppet with tightly wound strings. Heat crept up his neck as Ashe and his Iron Guard stared at him but the humiliation was short-lived. There was a sound of approaching footsteps behind Ru, and Ashe’s expression darkened.

“Clumsy, clumsy, clumsy!” A familiar voice rang out. “How fortunate that we caught you when we did. Wouldn’t that have been terribly embarrassing!”

Ashe scowled. “What are you doing here? Come to slander my name again?”

“You do that well enough yourself,” Nerat drawled, coming up beside Ru’s stock-still body. “Such cheek! One would think you’ve no arrogance left to spare after the Overlord put you in your place. You see, court page? Look at what a bit of poking will get you.” The power gripping Ru’s body abruptly relented, and he well and truly fell over, sprawling on cold marble with a grunt of pain. The Iron Guard eyed him as if he'd gone and pissed on their boots on the way down. Ru blew a lock of hair out of his face and favored them with a glare as he pushed himself off the floor.

“Leave it up to you to poach a child from the Adjudicator.” Ashe hardly so much as glanced in Ru’s direction.

Nerat crossed his arms. “Please. The two of us are bosom friends! Isn't that right, boy?” Uh. “What’s wrong with a perfectly innocent game between us?”

Ru wasn’t entirely convinced at this point and apparently neither was Ashe. No sooner did Ru find his footing when he found himself directly in the warpath of Ashe’s advance, bouncing off his gleaming armor and narrowly avoiding the scalding blaze of Nerat’s form as the distance closed between both Archons.

“Whatever scheme you’ve concocted to ruin me, to involve this foolish child—” Ashe growled.

“Oh, it’s _always_ about you, isn’t it?”

“— remember just how I came to earn my place. Were it not for Kyros, I would have put you in the ground right next to that savage beast, Blood Echo.” 

“At least your predecessor had a sense of humor. You’d think we’d gone and gobbled up your children the day we met.” Nerat’s helm wiggled in amusement. “Hm... did we? So difficult to keep track of all these voices from time to time...”

Ashe’s face turned a brilliant shade of red.

Their heated argument stirred to a frenzy, Ashe practically roaring over Nerat’s collective voices and shrieks of laughter, and Ru found himself in the unfortunate position of being wedged directly between them. Neither Archon paid him any heed as he squirmed to avoid flames and callous iron alike. He attempted to speak, to beg their leave or even one iota of their attention, but he would have been better served screaming into a hurricane.

It was a cold comfort when the commotion finally attracted the whole ballroom’s attention. Everyone gave them a wide berth but circled around them as if they were nothing more than a sideshow spectacle and it was starting to feel that way. Ru spotted Calio at the edge of the crowd, her expression alight with surprise, but she vanished before he could call out to her.

Then she returned with Tunon.

A hush fell over the crowd and they parted before Tunon as he glided towards the center, black smoke billowing in his wake, Calio flanked at his side. 

“Archon of War. Archon of Secrets. Have the terms of Kyros’ directive been made unclear to you? All hostilities must be suspended until morning’s light. You would subvert her will so brazenly?” Tunon’s voice remained perfectly level but it reverberated in the room and down to Ru’s very bones. Power crackled in the air, setting his teeth on edge. Ashe and Nerat haven't failed to notice either. They stared up at the Adjudicator in the stretch of silence that followed and Ru seized the opportunity to break free, nearly stumbling into Tunon as he did but Calio was there to snatch him back, keeping an almost painful grip on his shoulders.

“Hostile is such a strong word, Adjudicator!” Nerat’s voice dropped to a cajoling simper. “We were having a spirited conversation! We do so love children and may have gotten rather excitable about the prospect of meeting one of your own. Isn’t that right, Ashe old chum?”

Ashe’s jaw clenched but he nodded.

“Have you anything to add to these claims?” Tunon asked, turning slightly to face Ru.

Ru awkwardly stood at attention under the room’s scrutiny. “I... um...” His gaze slid away from Tunon to the other Archons behind him. Ashe’s fingers subtly tightened around his mace but his face was otherwise impassive. Nerat’s spinning helm came to a stop on a scowling visage only briefly but his warning was clear as day. Whatever the outcome, neither Archon would forget this.

“I am addressing you, Xiaoru.” Darkness rose from behind the Adjudicator, a silent warning.

“I...” Ru wavered, uncertain and fearful. His education didn’t prepare him for this yet.

“Your Honor, perhaps it would be appropriate to move this discussion to a private venue,” Calio interjected.

“Your objection is noted,” Tunon said coldly. “However, I would collect his testimony _without_ granting him time to embellish it.” Damn. The Adjudicator clung to a grudge tighter than a miser with rings. “Speak plainly, court page.” 

The combined weight of Ashe and Nerat’s stares pressed even harder on Ru’s consciousness.

Ru took a deep, shuddering breath and dropped his gaze to the floor. He'd do what he did best: skulk around. “The Voices of Nerat introduced me to Graven Ashe after I fell down. Both were worried I would be taken advantage of, which led to a... passionate discussion in defense of children like me. I didn’t mean to start trouble but if I have then I humbly apologize.” Calio squeezed his shoulders only once and he remembered himself, pulling free to bow deeply at the waist like a Good and Proper Court Page, hoping Tunon didn’t notice how he trembled or how his pockets jingled. "I submit myself to your mercy, Your Honor." Again.

Tunon contemplated the matter in total silence and the ballroom seemed to hold its breath. “Do you both accept Xiaoru's apology?” he asked at length.

Ashe opened his mouth to speak but Nerat beat him to the punch. “But of course! Let bygones be bygones.”

“And you, Graven Ashe?”

The Archon of War gave Ru a long look with that impenetrable scowl on his face. “I am satisfied, Adjudicator.” 

“Very well.” Tunon lifted his gavel and Ru braced for it to strike down upon him but a singular note resonated in the room as he merely tapped the floor. “I will deal with my page accordingly but do not forget: Kyros does not suffer dissidence in any way, shape, or form. Be mindful of your place. All of you.” His gaze swept across the crowd and it dispersed in a flurry of nervous mutters. Somewhere, a lute tentatively picked up the dance number again and other instruments gradually followed but for all the gaiety in the bouncing notes, there was a heaviness in the air that refused to budge.

Ashe retreated to a balcony outside with his Iron Guard in tow but Nerat lingered. He considered Ru with a curious tilt of his helm and dared to draw near. “Children can be _terribly_ fickle but truth will out, yes? It'd be such a shame if something were to happen to this one. He made for a splendid diversion.” He aimed his words at Tunon, but Ru felt heat lick the inside of his skull and it made the hair on his neck stand on end. A voice not his own insinuated itself into his thoughts. _Now wasn't that exciting?_

“I did not expect to find you on familiar terms with my page,” Tunon said slowly. Ru swallowed nervously around the lump in his throat and kept his eyes trained somewhere above Tunon’s mask, silently pleading for a miracle as he felt the intensity of Tunon’s gaze boring into his skull.

“The holidays are a time for camaraderie,” Nerat crooned. “Don't you agree? We wished to bestow a token of our appreciation before we depart.” He plucked a marble ball from his pouch with two fingers and pressed it into Ru’s cupped hands, lingering there perhaps a few seconds longer than necessary. “Keep us in your thoughts, court page. We will most certainly keep you in ours.”

On the ride back to the Palace of Justice, Tunon prodded Ru for a more thorough account of what exchanged between him and the other Archons, but words failed Ru. He rolled the marble between his fingers, finding calm in the simple, repetitive motion and the rumble of Tunon’s voice. Calio said something in response to Tunon’s question but Ru had long shut away complex thought for the evening. The caravan bumped and rattled along the road, but he rested his head against Calio’s shoulder all the same and stared listlessly at the floor where air dragged the tail-end of Tunon's smoke out past the floorboards.

It was only once they finally arrive home that Ru realized the marble ball in his hands looked back at him.


End file.
